I lean forward, this time of my own free will. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you the fuck home, Marlowe. You won’t talk, so I’m putting you down as a person to probably shoot first, talk to never.”
I stay there, insulted and unsure why. I need to find out what happened back at the truckyard. I don’t know why Declan was there, but somehow, I don’t think it has anything to do with Dad.
And after his arrest—even after all this time—I don’t think Declan’s about to help anyone in my family, and he doesn’t strike me as the blackmail type.
“How do you know where I live?”
“I made it my business to know.”
My heart soars, but I remind it I hate him. I remind it he’s a cheater, I remind myself that if Declan wanted me, he wouldn’t have waited to find me.
He drives through the streets of Manhattan to the Upper West Side where our family duplex is. There are apartment buildingshere where a duplex means the entire two floors. Old, grand, and over the top. Ours isn’t that, but it’s grand enough.
And it’s the last place I want to be.
I’m twenty-two, not twelve, and I want to live on my own. Dad bought me a place in Chelsea for my twenty-first birthday, but Mom forbade me to move into it. The deed, keys, and everything else with my name on it is in a safe.
So that apartment sits empty.
I detest my mother.
Declan pulls up and makes no move to release the child locks. He taps his hands on the wheel. “Who were you meeting?”
“I told you. Leon and his contact. To find my missing Dad.”
My words don’t seem to register.
“Marlowe, you said you were in the office building. Why’d you go there? For the meeting?”
I shrug. “I was early, and I figured that’d be a good place to wait.” Leon told me to meet him in the building, but I keep that to myself. “I had time to poke around. It was empty. Not even a chair.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“When I came out, people started shooting.” I look at him, willing any lust to stay buried. But he’s not really looking at me.
“Fine,” he finally says, still looking like he’s lost in thought. “Go home, Marlowe.”
The locks snap like a slap across the face. “Fine.” I claw open the door and run inside the building, never so glad to be home before in my life.
“Miss Briggs,” Henry, the doorman, greets me with a big smile. “Is everything okay? You look pale.”
“Fine. I’m just tired.” I manage a small smile even though my head and heart ache with the knowledge that even though I’ve just narrowly escaped death, I’m no closer to finding my dad.
The phone buzzes with an incoming call. My pulse hammers hard against my throat.
Leon’s name appears on the screen.
Should I answer? Confront him? So many questions and suspicions gnaw at my brain, thanks to Declan. My thumb hovers over the screen, but I don’t hit the Accept button.
Not yet. Not until I figure out what the hell is going on.
It’s time for me to do some digging on my own.
THREE
declan
